Closer
by Swinging Cloud
Summary: Fill for the GKM. "Brittany's not sure what she expected to find at her first Harvard party- but whatever it was, it's not what she actually found." AU Brittana. Heavy recreational party DRUG USE. MJ/X/Lean. SOLOSMU #2


**Summary**: Fill for the GKM. "Brittany's not sure what she expected to find at her first Harvard party- but whatever it was, it's not what she actually found." AU Brittana. Heavy recreational party drug use. MJ/X/Lean.

**WARNING: DRUG USE**, to include **Ecstasy**, **Marijuana**, and **Lean**, also known as _purple drank_. Please exercise caution when reading if you are sensitive to these types of things. Also, two girls having strap-on sex.

**A/N:** Okay, so. Whew. First of all, thanks everyone who read the first story in the week of **SOLOSMU**. I appreciate all the reviews, follows, and favorites. You are all beautiful.

Second- this story is severely out of my comfort zone, but I wanted to write it because a) I want to eventually be a Narc, and b) I wanted to make sure it was handled well. I have portrayed drugs in a positive manner in this story, which is the exact opposite of how I feel about them (hugs not drugs!) As I stated above, please exercise caution when reading. And don't fucking do drugs. They're ILLEGAL.

And stay tuned after the feature, for more information about the dangers of illegal fucking drug use! ;D

* * *

_Molly_ is MDMA in its purest form, usually sold as a capsule or straight powder, but can sometimes be pressed into tablets like Ecstasy.

_Lean_, or _purple drank_, is a mixture of prescription-grade cough syrup containing codeine and promethazine, Sprite, and oftentimes, crushed Jolly Ranchers.

_Weed_ we should all know, because it's the most popular drug in the entire world. :P

(hugs not drugs!)

* * *

You take one last look in your rearview mirror to check your make-up before you nervously exit your white Prius, closing the door a little harder than you intended and startling your already stirred-up jitters even further. Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you tug nervously at your skirt, smoothing it needlessly, before you begin your walk down the pristine, illuminated sidewalk. The street is lined with cars, and you had to park three blocks away from the house you're heading to. As you walk, you look around briefly for something easily identifiable so that you'll be able to find your car later when you're ready to go home, and decide that the large lion statue adorning the gate of the house across from your parking spot will do just fine- you like cats, after all. You read the numbers of the uniform, brick mailboxes, ensuring yourself that you're getting closer to your destination, but the amount of cars packed on the street doesn't exactly calm your nerves.

It's your first college party in Boston and you have no idea what to expect. You're a small town girl from Ohio, and you've never been told you are particularly bright by anyone. It seemed like a miracle when you'd been recruited by MIT and considered some sort of genius, and you sometimes wondered if they'd made a mistake, but who were you to argue? You'd smiled and nodded and accepted your full ride scholarship.

Classes haven't been easy, but you've kept your nose to the grindstone and you've been managing a decent average. You just finished your first round of midterms this week, and one of your new friends- Quinn- had invited you to a party near her college immediately after, "to celebrate." You'd met Quinn at the coffee shop where you work _part_ part-time; she goes to Harvard and you two had hit it off right away. You admire how genuinely pretty and smart she is- _actually_ smart, not fluke-smart, like you- and you feel honored that someone so incredibly _cool_ even talks to you or wants to hang out with you.

When she invited you to the party, you almost died. You were going to an _actual_ Harvard party. You'd dressed as nice as you dared without being presumptuous about the atmosphere- after all, it's a _party_- and climbed into your car to make the drive out to the address Quinn had texted you. When you'd rolled up to the gated community and given your name to the armed security guard at the gatehouse, you'd been stupefied by how gigantic the houses were as you crawled by them, craning your neck to see driveways longer than the street you lived on back in Ohio.

You'd never felt more humble.

And now, here you are. Your nerves are back in full force as you text Quinn _I'm here_ and then ring the doorbell of the humongous house, chewing your lip and praying you don't look stupid. For a second you wonder if you should've let Quinn answer your text first so you could avoid the awkwardness of dealing with a stranger, but then the door handle twists and you prepare yourself.

The huge, mahogany door opens to reveal a boy, a little older than you, standing in a sweater and jeans looking completely casual, and you feel slightly relieved. You're not underdressed, at least.

His eyes look bloodshot and he doesn't greet you except to shoot you a dopey smile as he moves to let you enter, his moves slow and sluggish. You don't miss the appreciative way his eyes roam over your body, though, and you force a smile in return, glad that you at least look good enough to warrant some attention.

You thank him awkwardly as you enter into what seems to be a large courtyard, and then your phone buzzes in your hand.

_Kitchen._

You nod, then realize that it's a text message, so Quinn can't see you; you look around surreptitiously, hoping no one saw your silly behavior, and you're relieved when you notice there's only a few other people in the front area of the courtyard, most of whom look like zombies splayed out on various outdoor furniture, doing something carnal that looks a lot like- you shake your head. It's still early; maybe the majority of partygoers are fashionably late?

You clamp your mouth shut as the urge to ask for directions from the zombie people threatens to spill from your lips- can zombies only say _brains_?- and instead you venture further into the courtyard, searching for the entrance to the kitchen. As you step across the open space, you spy a large pool with a hot tub, and three more sets of outdoor furniture, most of which are occupied with more zombie people. Around you, a thin haze of smoke permeates, and you ignore the eyes of the people staring at you as you walk.

You scan the edge of the courtyard and spot different doors all around, a few of which are glass. You can see what looks like a kitchen through one of the doors, and you make your way towards it, tugging it open when you reach it and slipping inside the house.

Cool air hits you, and you can faintly hear the bass of some music in some distant part of the house. Groups of kids stand around, holding cups of what must surely be alcohol, chatting. You search the room for Quinn. When familiar blonde hair catches your eye, you feel instantly relieved that you know someone as you make your way over.

"Hey," you say softly, and Quinn turns to you with a smirk, a mischievous glint in her eye. You briefly wonder what she's up to, and then she grabs your arm.

"It's about time you showed up," she teases. Then she guides you through the packed kitchen and around a corner, into a dining room that's mostly devoid of people. She throws a cautious glance over her shoulder and then turns back to you with a playful smile.

"I saved you some of the good stuff," she says conspiratorially. "Here." She holds out her fist as if to place something in your hand, so you slide her palm under hers to receive whatever it is. When she pulls her hand back you blink at the little white tablet left in the center of your palm.

"What-" you start, but Quinn cuts you off, and you already have a sneaking suspicion what that tablet is.

"It's _molly_. I already took mine. It'll make this party twenty times better. Besides, you've earned it."

You're hesitant- you've done Ecstasy before, in high school, but you're not sure you want to start your first semester at MIT off this way. You were kind of a partier back then, and pretty promiscuous, and you're trying to leave that image behind, since it didn't help you maintain good grades. But so far, this party is nothing like the parties you're used to. Whatever you expected to find at a Harvard party, it wasn't _this_. You stare down at the pill, your thoughts racing. You don't want to let Quinn down. She saved it for you, after all, and you know molly is expensive. And if Quinn can do it and still maintain being _perfect_, then it's probably all right, right? You _have_ been pretty stressed lately, and it will definitely help you relax-

"Come on, B," Quinn urges, and the challenging look in her hazel eyes has you placing the small round pill onto your tongue and swallowing it quickly. Quinn smirks, then hands you her cup. You take a grateful sip of whatever it is- you just taste _orange_- and then she's tugging you back into the kitchen to get you a drink.

You turn down alcohol in favor of water- you learned that the hard way in high school- and immerse yourself in the party, allowing Quinn to introduce you to various groups of people who smile at you and look impressed when Quinn tells them you go to MIT. You feel pretty proud of yourself, loosening up for the first time in a while. You can feel yourself starting to come up, because you start noticing how bright the boy you're talking to's purple tie is, and the distant beat of the music is making you edgy.

You want to dance.

Quinn and the group of her friends- and you- all eventually move to a sitting room, and you fall back onto the couch, grinning, despite feeling slightly disoriented. Your skin is starting to tingle a little, and when the brunette boy across the coffee table from you smiles at you, you feel a little exhilarated. He's cute, but you can tell that he's off limits by the way he leans into another boy at his side, and you giggle at yourself for being silly. The people around you seem like they're moving in an action movie, and it makes your head spin, but you can't fight the overwhelming feeling of awesome that's come over you. You stare at Quinn, feeling so grateful that she brought you to this party. It's exactly what you needed.

You touch her arm and giggle at the incredible tingles that erupt in your fingertips. She's warm, and you smile at her, and she smiles back at you, and before you know it, you're leaning forward and pressing a lingering kiss to her cheek, laughing against the softness of her skin. She chuckles in response and you sigh a low _thank you_ against her face before you pull back and attempt to listen to the conversation around you.

The music in the distance is tugging on you though, and your stomach lurches. Another rush of elation hits you and finally, you can't resist another second. You stand, and Quinn's hazel eyes find yours- though they are dark as an effect of the drug- and she smiles approvingly before turning back to the boy sitting next to her, who's laughing hysterically at something the boy across the coffee table is doing. Grinning, you leave Quinn laughing on the couch in favor of wandering around. You're hyper aware of the sound of the music in the distance, and you subconsciously make your way towards it, catching snatches of conversation from other kids standing around as you go.

You're up- _way_ up- and you feel bouncy, edgy- like you have too much energy, and you need to do something with it. The boom of the bass grows louder as you get closer, and eventually, you turn a corner and find a large, open room. Most of the furniture has been pushed aside to make a huge space, and in the center of the room, a small, tightly-packed crowd of people sway to the music blasting from the huge stereo system. It's dark, but there's a small rotating globe that you're sure was probably purchased from _Party City_ sitting on a shelf casting crazy beams of multi-colored, vibrant light around the room.

You smile, feeling euphoric. This is what you need.

You're already sweating when you step out onto the dance floor, but you don't feel hot. You don't feel anything, really, except _awesome_ and invigorated. The lights are bright, your favorite song is playing, and you have no cares, no worries. You start dancing, swaying your hips to the beat and sensually moving your arms. You don't mind dancing on your own- you're here to relax and relieve the stress of your week, and dancing is your best method of doing that. The colors from the light device flash across your eyes, too bright and too vivid and too beautiful as they splash in your brain. You'd forgotten how _good_ ecstasy feels.

Around you, sweaty bodies press close. Every so often, someone's arm or leg brushes against yours, and your skin explodes with prickles of feeling, with little shocks of pleasant electricity, and it makes your hair stand on end, it makes you laugh out loud with unaltered joy. Different people dance near you, _with_ you, and you let them, ignoring their faces and bodies and focusing instead on the way they move, becoming hyperaware of the way they make you _feel_.

You're so in the moment, you don't think anything of it when someone slides their hands along your hips from behind; you enjoy the warmth, and the way their body sways in time with yours. You close your eyes and sigh as the hands boldly pull you closer; you can't help giggling as you push your ass back into the stranger behind you, surprised when you feel a hard bulge between the person's legs. You smirk at the thought that your dance partner must find you _very_ attractive, and you roll your hips teasingly. The hands on your waist tighten in response, and your stomach clenches with unexpected arousal. Your pulse quickens even further, your heart races faster as the guy behind you grinds his hips into your ass and your excitement reaches a new level.

You lean back, further into his body, and feel soft breasts against your back, and now you're really confused. Your thoughts are a little fuzzy, and you're having trouble focusing on anything that's not the hands on your hips or the lights and music pounding through you. The stranger behind you grinds their hips again, and you gasp at the way it makes your clit ache, but-

Feeling dizzy and lightheaded, you drop your gaze to the perfect, thin, manicured fingers splayed on your hips, and the delicate wrists attached to them that can't possibly belong to a guy. You're still confused, but you're already addicted to the way the person behind you is heightening your euphoria, taking you higher, so you sway your hips and keep up your dancing.

You gasp when wet, full lips press to the top of your bare shoulder, slow and lingering, and you can't ignore the immediate arousal pounding through you. You've never been turned on so quickly before. The person behind you _has_ to be a girl. Those lips-

You turn, staying pressed close to your dance partner, and reach up to cup the back of her neck, bringing your foreheads together. (If you weren't under the influence, you probably might have hesitated, but-) You can practically taste her breaths as she exhales and you pant, keeping the intense pace of your dancing. She sneaks her thigh between your legs and you instantly grind down on it, releasing a heavy breath at the delicious pressure. The girl's hands have moved to cup your ass, and you can feel the warmth of her palms practically burning you through the material of your short skirt.

You want to be closer. You _crave_ to be closer.

"You're rollin', aren't you?" the girl in front of you husks, and her voice is low and raspy and sends fireworks shooting through you. You clench your thighs involuntarily, your sex aching, and grind down against her leg again.

"Uh-huh," you breathe against her mouth, sliding the hand at the back of her neck upwards to cradle the base of her skull. Your fingers bury themselves in soft, dark hair, and you move your other hand up to hold the side of her neck, letting your fingertips rest beneath her jaw, keeping her close, _closer_, breathing her in.

Your lips brush hers and you want to kiss her. You don't think it's a bad idea. Her lips look so plump and inviting. You shiver.

You're about to close the distance between your mouths when she ruts her hips forward, reminding you of the hardness that rests there, and your confusion, and-

"Is that your dick?" you blurt, feeling overwhelmed, feeling like your senses are crackling.

She smirks with her full, plump lips, shaking her head slightly. (The sight of it sends another hard throb between your legs, she's so beautiful-) Then she drags those sexy, full lips along your jaw, pausing at your ear to husk, "Only if you want it to be."

You shiver, maybe whimper, at her hot breath, at her words, and you pull her closer, the hard object between her legs pressing against your inner thigh, and your thoughts run wild as you imagine her inside you. You clench your thighs again, pulsing.

The song pumps through your veins, and it's your _favorite_ (they're all your favorite right now) and it fills you almost to bursting with energy. You dance vigorously, incessantly against your mysterious dance partner, feeling like you desperately need something _awesome_ but you're not sure what it is; two more fast-paced songs pass, stoking your fire even higher, before the girl stills your hips.

"We should get some water," she says softly, pulling back, and you take in her features for the first time. Your eyes immediately fall to her lips, which you want to suck on, and you don't know how long you stare at them before you move to the rest of her face. You don't feel all the air leave your lungs, but you're overcome with a swooping feeling, like being in an elevator, as you take in her dark, dark eyes and perfectly-sculpted eyebrows, and those lips-

She turns away, and you instinctively reach for her hand, gasping at the way tingles erupt over your skin at the contact. It's so much more intense than anything you've felt, and when she laces your fingers together and looks at you, letting out a slow, deep breath, you smile. You stare into her eyes for a long moment as the tingles spread up your forearm and reverberate through your body like rippled from a pond. Your stomach clenches. You've done E in the past but it's never been like this. You feel ready to jump out of your skin as your eyes dart from her eyes to her lips to-

"Hey," she murmurs kindly, smiling. "Relax."

Your eyes find hers again. She squeezes your hand, and it feels like she's squeezing your heart.

"I've never felt like this before," you blurt, your inhibitions too far gone for you to even feel silly about your words.

The girl's eyes are like burning oil, dark and hot, as she moves towards you. Her free hand cups your jaw, sending sparks shooting through you, and she tugs your face down before leaning up and pressing her slightly-open mouth to yours, and you feel as if you might pass out from the way your insides flutter, the way your sex throbs, the way your lips and mouth tingle, and when her smooth tongue darts out to lick over your bottom lip, you moan loudly, hyperaware of the sound as it crawls up from your throat. When she pulls back, she breathes against your lips, "Me, either."

Your heart flutters even faster, like a hummingbird, and your stomach does, too, and you wonder if maybe your insides are going to spontaneously combust. You stare with hooded-eyes at her lips. You want to kiss her again, but you think if you do, you might never stop.

She's turning again a second later, tugging you through the crowd, and you feel a surge of excitement- a breathless feeling- pass through you. You fleetingly think you'd let her take you anywhere as she leads you to the kitchen, then gets you a glass of water from the fridge. You stand, leaning against the counter, simmering.

"Drink this," she says when she steps back towards you, and the feeling of her body heat, even inches away, sets all your nerves tingling again, and you ache to be closer to her. You stare at the way her dark hair shines under the brightness of the kitchen fluorescent lights as you accept the cup of water. You sip it gratefully, grinning at the way the cool liquid feels sliding down your throat, and then you notice the girl has reached into the back pocket of her loose jeans and pulled out a small, metal flask.

She moves to get a shot glass from the counter of the kitchen island in the center of the room, and then she pours a purple-colored liquid from the flask into the shot glass and hands it to you. "This, too," she says softly. "It'll help you relax."

You nod, trusting her implicitly without reason, and stare at the purple liquid. It looks like cough syrup. Maybe it _is_ cough syrup. You cautiously sip on the shot until it's gone, surprised at the taste. It's sweet- _really_ sweet, and when you're finished, she takes the shot glass from you, sets it on the counter, and recollects your hand, making you buzz again.

You follow her outside to the back porch, and you're immediately hit with the smell of weed. The tickle of it in your nose makes you laugh; the girl you're with smiles fondly at you, and all at once you're overcome with the desire to kiss her again, but then she leads you over to a seat, which you take. She sits next to you, and beside her, a boy with red hair buried beneath a beanie, which you admire, is taking a long hit from a joint. When he finishes, he passes it to the girl beside you, who accepts it with a smile.

"Thanks, Brett," she mutters before placing it between her lips and taking a hit, and all you can do is stare. You've never seen anything so sexy, and you're unfoundedly jealous of that joint, wanting to be between her lips, wanting her to inhale you. Your sex throbs. You shift in your seat.

She offers it to you next, wearing a reassuring smile so unlike the challenging look Quinn had given you earlier; you accept it, a little concerned about the fact that you're mixing so many drugs, but you trust the girl you're with not to harm you or offer you anything that might kill you, so you put the joint between your lips and take your hit like a pro. You can feel her watching you raptly, the intensity of it making the back of your neck prickle, and when your eyes meet hers again, she licks her lips, and you smirk playfully at her, exhaling the smoke slowly from your mouth. You offer the joint back to her, and she accepts it, taking another quick hit, and your jealousy of the joint spikes, prompting you to lean in for the kiss that you've been thinking about since the last one ended.

As your lips brush hers, she exhales slowly into your mouth and you groan, inhaling the smoke and feeling the way it caresses your insides, leaving you trembling with want for _her_ to be inside you instead. Once you exhale, you pull her the rest of the way into a heated kiss, tasting the smoke and feeling the crawling under your skin start to dull, though your desire for her doesn't wane. You want to touch her, you want _her_ to touch _you_-

You want to dance again.

You tell her so against her jaw, and she nods absently, handing the joint back to Brett and standing with you. You make your way back to the dance room, your eyes watching her ass as she walks, and as you re-enter, you hear that the music has shifted to something slower, something grungier and dirtier that makes your thighs tense. Your heartbeat has calmed considerably; your stomach feels a little numb inside. You don't feel as jittery, you just feel _happy_.

You let her lead you back into the crowd of dancers, most of which are still moving far too fast for the beat of the song currently playing, but they're too far gone to care. You turn, keeping your back to her, and find the tempo of the song, letting it control your hips as you grind back into her sluggishly. Her arms wrap around your waist more possessively, keeping you pressed closer than before, the fingers of her right hand splayed on your stomach. Her left hand caresses your thigh, and you feel weird- like your heart should be doing backflips, but it doesn't. You feel really mellow, and a little bit numb, but her touch still ignites you, so you don't dwell on it. You trace fingertips up her forearms, marveling at the softness of her skin, and the way touching her, even just barely, feels so electric.

Your thoughts are everywhere, but the one that sticks is how much you want the girl behind you inside you. You try to convey that through your dancing, but the hard object between her legs is a constant, pressing reminder of your increasing arousal, and her lips dragging across your shoulder make you wish you were kissing her. Your thighs are slick, sticky; you're not sure when you got so desperately turned on, but you're ready to drag your dance partner somewhere- anywhere- in a hurry. You're aching to feel the girl behind you inside you, and you have a good idea that she'll give it to you, that she'll fill the pounding need between your legs, and the thought makes you a weird blend of ecstatic and indifferent. You want to do a different kind of dance, now. You turn to face her.

Her lips find yours and you kiss heatedly, still rocking against her as her hands find your ass again. You think maybe she's just as eager as you, especially when her tongue slips into your mouth to tangle with yours, making you moan. You kiss and kiss, and when she pulls back, she grabs your hand again and silently pulls you from the dance floor.

You follow without hesitation.

She leads you to a staircase, and you climb, feeling a little loopy as you ascend the steps, but you're hyperaware of the palm of her hand fitted to yours and it stabilizes you enough to make it to the top. There's an open room with a billiards table in the center, surrounded by a few guys playing. On the wall is a dart game, but you don't really notice much else as the mysterious woman pushes open the door to another room, and your eyes widen as you step inside.

It's hazy; you can smell the smoke permeating the room, and the way you can almost feel it on your skin. You can just barely see the forms of couples on the couch, confirming that what you saw earlier in the courtyard wasn't a figment of your imagination- these people are all _fucking._ Soft sighs and moans fill the room, and you bite your lip as you scan over their slowly-moving bodies, watching briefly. They all seem oblivious and indifferent to the other people in the room, focused only on their own pleasure, and you couldn't care less, either, because all you can think about is how bad you want to be one of those people with the girl next to you.

She tugs you over to an empty recliner on the far side of the room, falling back onto it and pulling you down on top of her. You drape yourself over her and don't hesitate to lean forward and kiss her, meeting her tongue with your own, exploring her mouth lazily. You run fingers through her hair, giggling at how soft it feels, how it tickles your skin. You trace fingertips down her neck, down her arms, slip your hand under her shirt to touch her tense, warm stomach. She gasps into your mouth with every caress, shivering and canting up into you, and you don't realize that you're trembling from the overwhelming feeling of pleasure as she returns all your touches.

You sigh against her lips, becoming aware of how damp your panties are, and you squeeze your thighs together and clutch tightly at her shirt, aching to be closer. You feel like you want to be inside her chest, inside her body with her. You need to be closer.

When you break the kiss for some air, she laughs, her beautiful dark eyes closed and wide smile overtaking her face. She has dimples, and it makes your heart ache.

"How do you feel?" you whisper, and her eyes slit open. Her smile drops into a more deep, serious expression as she studies your face.

"Like I can see the universe," she breathes, staring into your eyes, and you shiver, your heart fluttering with a feeling you're reasonably certain isn't drug-induced. She leans up to capture your lips again, and you moan, rocking your hips against her, though it doesn't do any good. You can still hear the low moans from the other couples in the room, but your vision is a little tunneled and all you can really focus on is the gorgeous woman beneath you, and your own burning desire. She doesn't stop touching you, trailing her fingertips along your skin and making you feel like you're floating, though your heartbeat remains slow and steady. You kind of feel like you're in a tub of lime Jell-o, or maybe molasses, or trying to move underwater, or in a _Matrix_ movie. Your limbs feel heavy but you still feel elated; you're not sure what to make of it. You don't really care, though.

You don't want to stop kissing her.

Her hand strokes up and down your bare thigh, and after what feels like hours of kissing her, she hooks her hand behind your knee and tugs your leg over her, so that you're straddling her lap. The action makes you clench hard, especially because you can feel the hardness in her jeans, and you push yourself up a little, watching as she reaches to unbuckle her belt.

She pops the button of her jeans open and unzips them, then opens them, shifting them out of the way enough to guide the dildo she's been packing all night out, and you moan at the sight, slightly impressed that she's not wearing underwear. Your eyes trace over the dildo, taking in its size, and you lick your lips at the thought of her putting it inside you.

She fishes in the front pocket of her loose pants for a moment, and when her hand reappears, she's holding a small, square package you haven't dealt with in years, but in the current context, you're more than happy to allow. You gently take the square from her and, smirking devilishly, you decide to tease her a little. You're going to show this sexy, dark-haired stranger what a sex bomb you are, so you carefully tear the package open with your teeth, then jerk your head, tossing your hair over your shoulder for effect. Her eyes watch you intently as you reach for the firm silicone standing tall between her legs, and you carefully position the rubber on the head.

Then, using an old trick, you press your lips to the condom and carefully roll it down the shaft of the dildo with your mouth, swallowing the entire length of it as you go. You hear her low groan of pleasure at your action, and you smile as you pull back, releasing the dildo, which is now neatly encased in the rubber.

"Fuck," she breathes, her black eyes smoldering beneath the surface. She looks like she could devour you, and you _want her to_. You want her to swallow you whole, the way you swallowed _her_, and you lunge forward sluggishly, pressing your open mouth to hers, aching to be closer. It feels like time slows down as you rub your tongue against hers in her mouth. You don't even think you're kissing her, really. More like trying to fit her mouth inside of your mouth. You want her inside of you. You want-

Pressure between your legs has you gasping against her parted lips. You feel her fingers push your underwear to the side and begin searching through your slippery folds, and when they find your hard, swollen clit, you grind your hips down lazily as pleasure sparks through you, exploding like white-hot lightning through your nerves. Yet your heart doesn't pound, your pulse doesn't race. You feel like a murderous animal trapped in a constricting cage. You're trying to claw your way out, tingling everywhere, but you can't seem to get your body to respond the way it should. You're like a carefully controlled, contained explosion.

Two fingers drive into your wet heat, then three, moving easily, but you need more, you need _more_, and when you beg in her ear for her to fuck you, and hear her answering groan, you know she's going to give it to you.

Your underwear is so wet it drags on your thighs, and it's a slow, awkward process as you slip them down your legs completely, enough to open yourself to what you really want- her buried deep inside you. She presses against your entrance, and you're ready, _so_ ready to feel her that you almost can't contain yourself.

"Fuck, _please_," you murmur, and when she finally rocks her hips up into you, you take all of her, your slick heat swallowing every inch, and you sigh at how good she feels. You clench experimentally, learning the way she fills you, _so good_, and you sink down further, needing more, needing everything, needing to be _closer_. Your bare stomach presses to her bare stomach and electricity shoots across your skin, and you laugh into her mouth because it just feels _so fucking good._

You kiss her and kiss her, and she rubs your lower back, her palms warm and charged as they smooth over your skin. All the while she's inside you, filling you, and you don't even want to move. You can't imagine an orgasm feeling any better than what you feel now- but instinctually, almost involuntarily, your hips begin to roll on their own, rocking slowly. You barely move, the dildo sliding minutely inside you, but you don't care.

You've never felt so incredible.

Her hands slip under your shirt, trace over your ribs, tweak your hard nipples enough to make you cry out into her neck, then sink your teeth into the base, sucking at her skin and feeling her squirm, listening to her moans of pleasure. She rocks up into you, keeping with your rhythm, neither of you in a hurry. You're not going anywhere. You have no idea how long your high is going to last but you want to spend every minute you have left of it fucking her exactly like this.

You grab a fistful of her shirt again, holding on tightly, needing to ground yourself because you feel like you're floating away. You lift your hips a little, pulling off of her a little more, and revel in the slight empty feeling you have and how good it feels to fill it again immediately as you sink back down. You feel every centimeter of her as you both move, and you can hear how wet you are as you slide along her shaft. You've made a mess of your thighs- and hers. A quick glance down confirms it, even in the low light, and you groan at the thought that you're literally all over her.

"So wet," she husks in your ear. "I wanna taste."

"Yeah?" you tease in your low, bedroom voice.

"Mmhm," she groans, her fingers pressing into your ass. The action pushes your hips forward, and puts pressure on a new spot inside you, making you gasp as the pleasure sparks through you. You shudder at her demand and obediently reach down between your legs, gathering some of your wetness on two fingers and then offering it to her. Her lips part and you push your fingers onto her tongue, moaning as she immediately begins to suck deeply, her tongue laving over your digits to get every drop. Her dark eyes don't leave yours, her hips don't stop thrusting upwards, don't stop fucking you, and you fleetingly wish you could stay like this forever- that you've found the meaning of life, and it's _getting fucked by_ _her_- before your thoughts swirl away like leaves floating in a pond, and all you can focus on is _fuck so good_.

Her hands are everywhere, making you shake. Her cock is deep inside you. Her tongue is pressed to your tongue, and you're practically sharing breaths, sharing moans, sharing _life_. Your heart is pounding hard, but not fast. Distantly you can feel your orgasm building, but it feels far away, and you're not completely sure you haven't been continually orgasming this whole time because nothing has _ever_ felt this good.

Her hips thrust up, sharp and sudden, and her arms wrap around your waist, and you clench hard around her, pleasure bursting, stomach tightening. You sit up a little and ride her a little faster, pressing your hands to her chest, watching the pleasure overtake her, the way her lips part, her mouth dropping open to suck in air- her _lips_, though, plump and full and- no, her tongue, fuck, you want her tongue _everywhere_, and her eyes-

Her eyes are staring between your legs, watching you fuck her, watching your tight heat swallow her cock, and you're suddenly overcome with the feeling of being _powerful_, of being supreme, of having such control over such a beautiful creature, and you begin to fuck her in earnest. You've never wanted something more than you want to watch this stunning stranger fall apart beneath you- _for_ you, _because_ of you- and you laugh breathlessly.

"You like what you see?" you purr, sinking down slowly and staying there, leaning back slightly to give her a good view up your body.

"Fuck," she whimpers beneath you. "You're so sexy." Her voice is rougher, even raspier than before- it sends another hard jolt of pleasure through you, and you climb even higher, impossibly higher, has anyone ever _been_ this high?

You feel her fingers on you again, slipping through your folds, and then she's holding you open, exposing your swollen, throbbing clit to her voracious eyes. She sighs at the sight- you know she can see you tightening, that she can see every twitch of pleasure that thrums through your muscles, through your clit.  
She strokes the little nub with her thumb experimentally, and your entire body jerks, a desperate cry tumbling from your lips at the intense, overwhelming feeling. It's too much and not enough, and you let your hands rest behind you, braced on her lower thighs as you grind your hips back and forth on her, making her curse.

Nails dig into your thighs but you don't feel pain, only delicious pleasure as your fucking reaches a new level of frantic, and suddenly you're riding her like your life depends on it, chasing your release like you'll _die_ if you don't come all over her _now_-

When it hits you, _slams_ you, you fall apart and see nothing but white. You never thought the feeling of ripping your veins out would be as incredible as it is, but the pleasure shoots through you in bursts. You're euphoric. You feel as if you might shake apart, like your muscles and tendons and bones will just snap and you think that might be okay as long as she doesn't pull out of you because you're squeezing the life out of her, kissing the life out of her, sucking the life out of her and her fingers tangle in your hair, tugging roughly, and you laugh as you shudder, as she growls in your mouth, as her hips rut up into you and then she's arching beautifully, her legs wrapping around yours, and you slide your arm under her lower back to keep her pressed into you as you grind your hips.

You lie against her while you come down, while you sober up, still harboring her inside you. You like the way she feels; you've never felt so complete. You don't want the feeling to leave you. You don't want _her_ to leave you.

It strikes you suddenly that you don't know her name. It also strikes you that you just fucked- rather _wildly_- a stranger in a room full of fucking strangers. A fleeting glance at the clock on the wall reveals that you've spent all night in her company- touching, kissing, fucking.

And you don't even care. You could spend every night with her. You could spend every night _fucking_ her.

You trace fingers down her neck, enjoying the softness of her skin as you continue to come down. The tingle isn't as intense, but it's still there, and without the drugs altering your body's reactions, your heartbeat accelerates, your pulses races freely, and you're quite aware that the intensity of the last few hours wasn't only due to the drugs.

It's also her.

Your eyelids begin to get heavier as you trace your fingertips slowly over her breastbone above her shirt. You're kind of exhausted, drained. You feel warm and drowsy and you sink into her softness. She keeps her arms around you. You don't move. You just want to stay closer.

* * *

You blink awake, noticing immediately that it's morning. The sun is shining in through the windows, and as you try and focus, you find Quinn standing over you, smiling. She looks less put-together than she did last night, but she hands you a bottle of water and some painkillers as you sit up. You're _alone_ on the couch- you have no idea how you got there- and you can't stop the disappointment that washes over you.

You feel fatigued, and sore, and sad that you woke up alone. You slept well, but you still feel tired as you gulp down your water.

"Have fun last night?" Quinn asks playfully, and you nod, though you're still feeling a little down. You didn't even get her _name._ You begin to wonder if you made the whole thing up, if you imagined the sexy girl with the dark eyes and the full lips, when Quinn sits down beside you and hands you a folded slip of paper.

"Santana had to leave early this morning, but she wanted me to give this to you," she says with a knowing smile, and you stare at her, confused about who she's talking about as you open the paper. It has ten numbers listed, along with the words, _Can I see the universe again? :)  
_  
Your grin must light up your face, because you hear Quinn chuckle beside you, but you don't care. You're not sure what you expected to find at your first Harvard party, but whatever it was, it isn't what you actually found.

But you're _so_ glad you found it.

* * *

**Sheesh! **

**That was super long. D:**

**Hope you guys didn't get lost along the way…**

**Anyways, thanks for reading; review if you feel like it, but if not, I'll catch you tomorrow with my next story. :)**

**AND NOW A WORD FROM ~OFFICER SAFETY:**

**Okay, I shouldn't have to tell you how absolutely dangerous it is for you to just trust someone to give you random drugs at a party. In this story (and always) Santana is awesome and loves her BritBrit, but in the story of **_**real life**_**, you could get raped, seriously hurt, or die. Drugs affect every person differently, and no one else knows how the chemicals are going to react in **_**your**_** body. Don't **_**ever**_** trust someone to know how much is enough or what you can take!**

**I won't tell you not to ever do drugs; that's unrealistic, and I'm reasonably sure that marijuana will probably be legalized across the US within the next five years, more than likely. **

**However I CAN tell you to use caution. Marijuana and MDMA are both pretty tame in the world of drugs. Both have no scientifically proven long-lasting effects on your body, and neither of them are PHYSICALLY addictive, though you can develop a different type of dependency on both of them. **

**MDMA CAN kill you the first time you use it, though rarely. The danger in MDMA use is mostly in the side effects- the drug pretty much blocks your body's ability to regulate temperature, so most people who die from MDMA do so from hyperthermia- overheating- because they don't realize they are burning up. Other side effects of MDMA include excessive grinding of the teeth (lockjaw), soreness, fatigue, and extreme depression, including the low that comes a few days after use of the drug, which makes people more susceptible to suicide. **

**If you are going to do MDMA or variants of- which I don't ever recommend, because it's FUCKING ILLEGAL- please do research and follow all safety precautions, and especially, KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU'RE TAKING.**

**One of the greatest risks involved in taking **_**Ecstasy**_** is that it could be ANYTHING. Some tablets don't even have any MDMA in them at all, and the drugs they **_**do**_** have in them could possibly kill you. You have no way of knowing; which is why, though it sounds cool to be depressed and overheated and shit, it is extremely dangerous. **

_**Codeine**_** is a very powerful opiate, and is a sedative, along with **_**promethazine**_**, which are both active ingredients in the prescription-grade cough syrup used to make Lean. The word prescription-grade should clue you into the fact that it is ILLEGAL without a prescription. ;)**

**You **_**can**_** develop a physical dependency on codeine, and chronic use, as with any opiate, can kill you. There have been a number of deaths linked to the use of Lean, especially in the hip-hop community, where the drug is extremely popular. **

**As always, you should NEVER EVER I MEAN NEVER MIX DRUGS! EVER! I hate to bring up a recent example, but Cory did not die from an **_**overdose**_**- he died from **_**mixing**_** heroin and alcohol, two depressants. So please use caution, and if you are just so bulletproof and awesome that you think you'll survive, well, then please do some extensive research. **

**Or, you could be like me. HUGS NOT DRUGS! Not only are hugs legal, but they are FREE! So go out and get yourself one, right now! :)**

**I hate to end on such a serious note, so in parting, I will say- hot damn, I can't believe Santana walked around with a fucking dildo in her pants all night. As I've expressed, it's not easy to do- you basically have a raging boner like, permanently. Mad props, yo! She is PREPARED! **

**And that's all I have to say about that!**

**See you soon, pals! **


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